Acts of Violence
by MarcellusMiro66
Summary: When Webby and Uncle Donald are kidnapped by the Beagle Boys, Uncle Scrooge and the three boys will stop at nothing to rescue them. (Not a rip-off of "Unethical" by Transformer 0, but feel free to think so; I thought of this story before he published his.)
1. Chapter 1

_Hi, everyone,_ _ **MarcellusMiro66**_ _here! The plot details are listed below:_

 _ **Plot** : When Webby and Uncle Donald are captured by the Beagle Boys (who are in cahoots with Flintheart Glomgold), the three brothers and Uncle Scrooge decide to take the law into their hands. Dewey in particular is aggressively driven to save them both that he makes a deal with Lena, who is revealed to an expert on the supernatural.  
 **Characters** :  
• **Scrooge McDuck (voiced by David Tennant)** : The granduncle of his nephew's nephews.  
• **Huey Duck (voiced by Danny Pudi)** : The oldest of the three brothers.  
• **Dewey Duck (voiced by Ben Schwartz)** : The middle child of the three brothers. His obsession for justice (and his conflict towards vengeance) drives the plot, which soon brings him and his family into conflict with two particular officers contributing to the case.  
• **Louie Duck (voiced by Bobby Moynihan)** : The youngest of the three brothers.  
• **Webby Vanderquack (voiced by Kate Micucci)** : The granddaughter of Mrs. Beakley whose kidnapping (along with Donald) kick-starts the main events._  
 _• **Donald Duck (voiced by Tony Anselmo)** : The uncle of Huey, Dewey, and Louie whose capture (along with Webby) kick-starts the main events._  
 _• **Bertina Beakley (voiced by Toks Olagundoye)** : The maternal grandmother of Webby who (like Dewey) is conflicted between letting the police force handle the situation or joining Mr. McDuck and his great-nephews in their quest for vengeance.  
• **Lena (voiced by Kimiko Glenn)** : The niece of a powerful sorceress whom Dewey makes a deal with in order to save Webby...and Donald._ _ **  
Genre** : A 70s/90s Action Thriller in the vein of **The Warriors (1979)** and **Hard Boiled (1992)**; A Supernatural/Horror Thriller in the vein of **The Changeling (1980)** and **Unbreakable** **(2000)** ; and A Psychological Drama in the vein of **Death Wish (1974)** and **Taxi Driver (1976)**_  
 _ **Rated**_ : _R (for graphic violence, strong language, and mature themes)  
 **Running Time** : 10 to 15 Chapters_

 _Enjoy! If you can..._

* * *

 _ **Part 1:** **" The One"**_

 _ **(" One" **– **Metallica**_ ** _)_**

 _Dewey continued to run into the forest as Webby told him to go on. At first he didn't want to, for he saw it to be a dishonorable coward who seemed fit to save his own skin. He beat a few of the Beagle Boys for a few moments before Webby practically ordered him to run as if his life completely depended on it...which it did. So here he was, sprinting deep into the forest with the 6th Avenue Meanies hot on his tail. It was dark and rainy, a weather trend that continue for the rest of the week, making it difficult to see properly and navigate through the woodland. Dark, rainy, and freezing were NOT a very good combination._

 _He could hear the voices of his pursuers nearing closer, so he forced himself to pick up the pace in order to close the remaining distance. He was almost home free. Spotting a cliff nearby, he made a split-second decision and took a hard left. Considering himself incredibly lucky that there was a river at the bottom that lead to the beach, he hit the water hard and was swept away by the rushing waves._

 _He saw nothing but dark water before losing consciousness._

 _Approximately a hour later, an unconscious Dewey washed up at the shore, his face buried in the sand. Numerous thoughts ran through his head, not even attempting woke up and pushed himself up._

 ** _"Dewey...!"_**

 _Dewey's eyes groggily opened as he noticed an approaching shape from the corner of his right eye. As it came closer, he saw that the shape was a girl_ _– a girl with partially-dyed pink hair, purple eyeshadow, a black-and-grey striped shirt above a mint-colored collared shirt, and a pair of green-and-white sneakers. ' Not Webby...'_

 ** _"Lena...?"_**

 _Lena crouched down to Dewey and placed two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. When she found it, she breathed a sigh of relief before proceeding to carry him._

 _ **"Jesus. For a 10-year-old, you weigh around 100."**_

 _ **"... W...We..."**_

 _ **"What?"**_

 _ **"W...Webby..."**_

 _ **"Don't worry, Dewey. Mr. McDuck and Mrs. Beakley are talking with the police as we speak. They'll find her soon... I hope..."**_

 _Although that last part was meant to be a murmur, Dewey clearly heard what Lena said. His concerns only grew once he recognized her tone as uncertainty. What if they didn't find her soon? Or even at all...?_

 _' Oh, Webby... I'm sorry...'_

* * *

Aside from the police themselves, news reporters and their crew surrounded McDuck Manor, setting up their equipment for their breaking story. All the while, they duked it out with each other as if one news reporter crew owned the joint before the other. It got so out of hand that the police force had to utilize a combination of ballistic shields, smoke bombs, and tear gas in order to keep them in line.

Louie watched from his bedroom window in complete fear and disdain; as much as he want popularity behind his beck and call, this was pushing it _too far_. Not _a little_ , but _entirely_. The rest of the family were downstairs in the living room; Uncle Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley were talking with the police about determining the location of the kidnappers and the kidnapped, while Launchpad was sitting on the couch comforting a sobbing Huey, who was lamenting that he had failed his responsibility as the eldest of the four. In short, he was unable to protect Dewey and Webby from the Beagle Boys, who had presumably taken them hostage along his Uncle Donald as a result...and he blamed himself for it, despite the consistent denials of such from his family. Surprisingly enough, Louie found himself supporting Huey and remaining optimistic that the police will do their jobs.

 _I hope..._

 ** _THUNK!_**

Louie yelped and leaped back in horror as a bloodied hand pressed against the window. Hesitating to open it up, he finally did once Dewey's half-awake face came into view. He propped it up and pulled him in, his surprise increased when his helper came in after him.

" _Lena?_ What are you doing here?"

"I found Dewey wiped out on the beach. So I went to the only place who can...properly help him."

"Well, why didn't you just use the front door?"

"Dude, have you seen the outside yet? With so many new reporters vs. police officers brawls out there, it's resembling an _effing_ battlefield by the second." Lena helped Louie place Dewey on his bed, doing her best to slow the bleeding. "Plus, it wasn't easy; I almost got caught."

Louie tilted his head as if to say _'Yeah, you got a point there'_ as he helped Lena tend to Dewey before he was instructed to find Uncle Scrooge and, if he could, Mrs. Beakley. She, meanwhile, grabbed warm, wet towels and placed them atop of Dewey's forehead and stomach, which housed the most injuries courtesy of the Glam Yankees. She used the rest of them to dry him up. As much as she didn't care in the slightest about the concept of family, she did this for Webby's sake as much as her own. Plus, if she had seen her boyfriend as such an utter wreck, her grudge against the dog-eat-dog family of criminals would just cut her even deeper.

 _"Lena!"_

She frowned at the sound of that all-too-familiar voice in the room with her. Turning around to face her shadow, it came to live with a very lively frown.

"What?"

 _"What are you doing? This wasn't part of the plan!"_

"Of course not, Aunt Magica; it's part of mine."

 _"Oh? And what does this plan entail? Don't say **'Playing the long game'**."_

"Me helping Uncle Scrooge and his family save Webby is just another way of earning their trust. Besides, if you waited for God knows how long to seek your revenge, I'm sure you can wait a little longer."

 _"... Are you blackmailing me?"_

"If that's what this must come down to...yes."

 _"Hmm... Very well. I will let you continue on with your "plan"."_

"Really?"

 _"But I'm keeping an eye on you. No funny tricks; that's my job."_

"Yes, Aunt Magica."

 _"Good. You know...it's not everyday that you often see a family member take some inspiration from another."_

"What?"

 _"I'm proud of you, Lena, in spite of our...differences on whose side to take."_

"... Thank you, Aunt Magica."

 _"I'll see you soon. Remember...I'll be watching."_

The anthropomorphic shadow reverted back to Lena's own. Sighing solemnly under her breath, Lena turned to find Dewey still sleep and then back around to an arriving Louie with Uncle Scrooge, Mrs. Beakley, Huey, and Launchpad in tow.

"Dewey!" Huey was the first to rush over and shook his second brother in an attempt to wake him up. Mrs. Beakley, however, would have none of it.

"Huey, let Dewey rest. He'll tell us more when he recovers." Turning towards Lena, she nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, Lena."

She herself could only nod back and stare at the wooden floor. _I figured she would ask me how or why I was here._

"Come to think of it...how and why did you come here, Lena?"

 _Nope, that was Louie's job. Wow, the guy has a lot of questions, doesn't he?_

"I was out by the beach for a walk." Lena told the truth...mostly. "I then saw Dewey wash up to the shore. I wanted to take him to a hospital, but the nearest one was two miles too far; your place was much closer."

"I see," Scrooge nodded in understanding as he walked over to Lena and patted her shoulder. "Thank you, Lena. We now have one less hostage to worry about."

"But Uncle Scrooge, what about Webby and Uncle Donald? We have to do something!"

"And we will, young lad," Scrooge reassured Huey, "But not yet. Let the police do their job before we do something reckless." Walking over to Dewey and softly placing a backhand on his forehead, he sighed softly and turned to the two adults in the room. "Let Dewey have his rest."

Uncle Scrooge left the room with Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad trailing behind.

"Mr. McDuck...you're not saying what I think you're saying...are you?"

"... I am, Beakley."

An uncomfortable silence accentuated by the shock it came with followed. To both of their surprise, it was _Launchpad_ who voiced his concerns towards his boss's suggestion.

"Uh, Mr. McD? I know I'm not smart or anything, but...isn't that illegal? Like... _'5-to-10-years-in-prison'_ illegal?"

"Yes, Launchpad."

"I'm sorry, Mr. McD, but...that is _dangerously_ arrogant. You're talking about taking the law into your own hands. You'll be risking your image and reputation...right?"

Scrooge's frown softened before he responded, "Launchpad...there are _far_ more important things in life than both of them."

Scrooge then walked away towards his personal quarters and slammed the door behind him, Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad exchanging worried glances as he did so.

Huey had eavesdropped on the cut-short but crucial conversation while Louie and Lena were both tending to Dewey. The thoughts that plagued his mind were not too dissimilar to the subject the three adults were discussing. _Taking the risk into their own hands? Who would've thought? But why? I thought Uncle Scrooge trusted the law enough to let them perform their duties. Then again, the three of us plus Webby know him better than them. Harsh, but it was also the truth...mostly._

 _Why do I get the feeling that he isn't telling us something?_

 _"W...Webby..."_

Huey turned back to find Dewey tossing and turning as he awoke from his sleep. He ran over just as Louie and Lena did, but realized something. "Guys! Give him some space!" Placing one soft backhand atop his forehead, he and the others watched his eyes flicker open. The following events were instantaneous.

As if he had recovered just like that, Dewey's eyes shot open as just his entire body shot up from his bed. Ignoring the many bruises and sutures that decorated his entire torso (or perhaps, _not caring_ at the moment), he scanned the room for his friend with a facial expression clearly that of panic and anxiety.

 ** _"Webby?! Webby, where are you?! WEBBY!"_**

To everybody's surprise (and his own), it was _Huey_ who shook some sense into Dewey when he got out of hand. **_"Dewey! Get ahold of yourself!"_** When he was certain that he was calmed down, Huey escorted a softly breathing Dewey back to his bed. It was here that the dam that held back the blue duckling's tears broke, accentuated by him burying his face into his hands. The red duckling's big brother instinct took over and he responded with a comforting hug, which his sibling reciprocated as he continued crying.

All the while, Louie and Lena watched on with concerned glances before the three adults rushed back into the room to investigate the commotion. Their panicked expressions that feared the worst softened at the sight of Dewey awake, alive, and well. Uncle Scrooge approached Dewey and was granted a chance to hug him the minute Huey was finished.

 _"Uncle Scrooge... We have to find her..."_

"We will, Dewey... We will..."

* * *

 ** _Cold._**

 _This is how it felt to her._

 _To him._

 _To them both._

 _Webby's eyes groggily opened as she tried to sat up. Her eyes opened even further upon realizing that she couldn't even move; glancing down, she found her restraints to be consisted of tight rope and a ball and chain fastened to her legs. Therefore, the only motion she could perform at the most was squirm, but it wouldn't do her some good in the slightest. She was in a separate cage a few feet away from Donald, who arguably had it worse. For his binding objects, the Beagle Boys decided on a shock collar and straitjacket. She had a terrible feeling down below that she end up with those dastardly devices along with him._

 ** _BAM!_**

 _A powerful blast of a punch knocked Webby back into reality. She shouted out in pain as the wind was knocked out along with her. She couldn't see who exactly her attackers were, but she could clearly see that she was practically defenseless against them because of her harnesses. Well, that, and she could assume from the get-go that it was **them**._

 _However, she didn't quite assume that they would do this._

 ** _CHOMP!_**

 _Her eyes widened in horror as the disturbing realization hit her like a sniper bullet: Bouncer was attempting to **rip off** her arm._

 ** _"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"_**

 _Fortunately for her, the pain only lasted for so long that Big Time and Burger pulled him off of her before any further damage could done..._

 ** _THUNK!_**

 _...but her being knocked into unconsciousness again was the side effect._

 _' Oh, Granny... Uncle Scrooge... Dewey, where are you...?' Webby thought as her eyes fell._

 _' I need you...'_


	2. Chapter 2

**__**Part 2: "**__** ** _ _ **The Two Sides of Me**__** ** _ _ **"**__**

 ** _ _ **("**__** ** _ _ **2 Sides of Me**__** ** _ _ **"**__** _–_ _ ** _ **Hinder)**_**_

The next day was somehow __worst__ than the first of hard rain.

The weather was stuck in an area that resembled the low 40's and the high 50's. The trees were close to being blown off the ground, the buildings were subject to damaged windows and flying rooftops, and the citizens were struggling to do about their business in the city. The police were doing slightly better, but they had the same amount of pressure that came with performing an investigation during a storm. Duckberg was under serious consideration to commence a citywide lockdown around noon.

And it was starting to _**_**piss** _**__**_**Dewey off**_**_.

Dewey woke up from his rest, his brothers still trapped in their state of sleep. Slowly getting up from bed, he carefully navigated his way to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he slipped out of his pajamas before slipping into the shower. He sighed in relief as the warm water washed over him, never minding his traumatic memories of being swept away by a rip-roaring river of rage. Going for the soap, he made sure not to drop it whenever he used it. The cleansing course was relatively easy, so this wasn't the reason for taking ten minutes too long in the bathroom. Instead, it was his deep and dark thoughts that served as justification.

 _ _Oh, Webby... Why did you do it? Why did you tell me to go on? I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay and help you fight back. Besides, I couldn't live with myself if I did leave you. But I did...and yet, I'm still here. I should've died. Yes, my death would've spared you the mind-wrecking question of whether or not I survive the turmoil.__

 _ _. . .__

 _ _No, Webby... I know why you do it. I know why you told me to go on. You wanted to stay. You wanted to stay and help me escape on. Besides, you couldn't live with yourself if I didn't. But I did...and yet, I'm still here. I should live. Yes, my survival would inspire you to do the same in your time of darkness with the Beagle Boys.__

 _ _. . .__

 _ _Don't worry, Webby... I'm coming.__

Dewey stepped out of the shower with a blue towel wrapped around his waist. Marching back to the bedroom, he rummaged through his belongings and searched for the dark blue hooded raincoat he kept for emergencies. Slipping it on above his usual long-sleeve shirt, he slowly exited the bedroom again, this time to descend downstairs and exit McDuck Manor as a whole. As if fate played a part, the rain had miraculously slowed down and transformed into sprinkles, allowing to locate and board a nearest bus to the area surrounding Scrooge's money bin. He didn't exactly feel safe walking the streets of Duckberg knowing that, at any given moment, he could be easily dispatched by the Beagle Boys and captured with Webby. That, and he lacked the need to walk approximately five miles from here to there in minutes (let alone seconds) flat.

It wasn't easy to break into the money bin of Scrooge McDuck and walk away with a grand total of $10 million, but it wasn't impossible...especially when you're Dewey Duck. Exiting the building with a duffel bag containing that amount, he then traveled to a three-level restaurant that also housed a bodega at the first. It was in this bodega where he found a light brown weasel with a slender build, red eyes, a black jacket above a white tank top, and blue pants with a red vertical stripe inside a white stripe. The weasel's head shot up upon hearing the sound of the shopkeeper's bell being rang; he practically pried his eyes open in order to get a better look at his unexpected costumer. A frown crossed his face, as Dewey expected from smug shopkeepers such as him.

"What do you want, kid?" The weasel attempted to wave him off, "It's too early."

"Too early for you to receive $10 million for what I'm about to offer you?"

At those specific trigger words, the weasel shot and sat up straight in his rolling chair.

"I guess not."

"I thought not."

Dewey pulled two stacks of $5 million and placed it on the desk for the weasel's eyes to see. Said weasel's eyes widened as he took up the stacks (he hesitated to do so at first in fear of it being pulled away from him) and counted them. When he finished, his eyes met with Dewey's and his suspicious frown transitioned into that of a halfhearted smirk.

"Do I know you, kid?"

"No, but you may know my uncle. His name is Scrooge McDuck – the richest person in the city of Duckberg. And that..." He gestured to the money, "...will multiply if you supply me with what I need and/or want."

The weasel's smirk immediately morphed into a manic grin, complete with half-shiny/half-yellow teeth. "Anything for a quick buck. What do you need and/or want?"

"My friend and uncle were kidnapped by a criminal gang. So I'm going to kill this gang and get them back. I'm getting them back and killing this gang. I'm killing all of them. I was informed that you are not selling bootleg movies, you supply guns and firearms of the like. Is this correct?"

"... That is correct. But...how do you plan on doing all of this on your own?"

"I don't. My brothers are going to help me...whether they like it or not."

"Ooh. Bribery as a last resort. You're smart, kid."

Standing up from his rolling chair, the weasel motioned Dewey to follow him down to the basement. He flipped on the light switch and revealed an assortment of various firearms on display in shelves or hanging on racks. The ones on the shelves were pistols and revolvers while the others in the racks were shotguns and rifles. The heavy weapons, as he would learn in a moment, were stored in a secret locker behind a picture of a nighttime café. A pair of the same machine gun were propped against the wall and supported by nails, while a singular minigun with a chainsaw grip and an ammunition belt was set on the shelf. A couple of RPGs were hung on the wall and held by hooks, while a grenade belt was hanging on the hook beside them.

It was like a kid in a candy store. A __very__ _ ** _ **violent**_**_ candy store.

"Jesus. Where did you – ?"

"The last city I stayed at was the unfortunate victim of a conspiracy theory. Paranoia will destroy ya, kid. I was like the others, who had done everything in their instinct to survive in the aftermath. You know what separated me from them, though?"

"No."

"Luck was on my side."

The weasel unfolded a step-up and climbed to grab a plethora of automatic carbines, passing them down for Dewey to grab and place on the worktable. Stepping down, he placed the rifles in a row of five and left the remaining three for him to explain to Dewey. While all three of them were technically variants of the same manufacturer, all three of them had their own distinct features.

"A M4A1 Carbine with EOTech 552.A65 Holographic sight and SureFire M951XM05 tactical light. A Daniel Defense DDM4 M4A1 with a foregrip, Magpul PMAG, and EOTech holographic sight. A BCM Recce 14 KMR-A with a 1-6x24 Trijicon AccuPoint scope and M203A1 Grenade Launcher. I'm gonna give you the rundown on firearms handling. One: Always check your ammunition. Two: Never put your finger on the trigger. Three: You never point the rifle at somebody if you're not ready to fire. Got it?"

"Got it." Dewey nodded as he handled the M4A1 and checked its sights. "Sooner or later, I'm gonna come back for more firepower, and money may be the least of my worries."

"I don't think it should be. As long it makes me rich."

"Ugh. Typical."

"Hey. Black market guns dealing isn't exactly a free pass. Besides, I have to do whatever I need to do to survive. We all do."

"I know that. It's just not fair."

"Life isn't fair, kid. Believe me...I should know."

 _ _... He's right.__

Afterwards, Dewey collected what he needed in a second duffel bag separate from the money and thanked the weasel before leaving. It turns out that another thing he was right on was that luck was on his side whenever it needed to be; he managed to get home before any of his family members woke. He also had to thank Webby when he got the chance for building a hidden dumbwaiter into the wall that led straight up to another hidden room above his own. It probably wouldn't last, though, so he had to be quick.

Exiting the dumbwaiter with the bag in hand, Dewey hoisted it up and carefully placed it upon the worktable. Zipping open the bag and pulled out two guns – a Colt MK IV Series 80 and a Colt Commander. Locating the magazine release switch, he unloaded the gun and rummaged through the bag for a box of .45 ACP ammunition. 10 rounds in total filled up the empty magazine for the first M1911, while it was 8 for the second model. He reloaded his pistols and chambered the slides. Just in time, too, for his ears perked up at the sound of a window creaking open. Picking up both of his firearms and aiming it at the source.

"... Lena?"

"Hello, Dewey."

Indeed, standing there in her rain-soaked raincoat was a distraught Lena Le Strange, her hands raised up in innocence.

"I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people."

After a moment's notice, Dewey lowered both guns and bitterly chuckled.

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing."

* * *

 _ ** _A/N_**_ _ _: Two months since I last updated, I blame writer's block and new ideas for new stories. The fact that I pre-visualized all of the events beforehand is just adding insult to injury.__


	3. Chapter 3

**_Part 3: " 3 AM"_**

 ** _(" 3 AM" – Matchbox Twenty)_**

 _Scrooge was all alone in the dining room, nobody and nothing but a cup of morning tea to accompany him in the deathly silent atmosphere that engulfed him (and, to an extension, the entire manor). A day about to be three had passed since the disappearance/kidnapping of Webby, and not a day about to be three passed since he had cooperated with the police in order to ensure her safety when and/or if she was found. So far, so good... Nothing had come up on the investigation on Miss Vanderquack, and only a few honest cops offered to take it seriously. In fact, some of the cops involved were secretly corrupt, deep in the ever-so pockets of Flintheart Glomgold._

 _It made him angry – pissed off even – when law enforcement failed to perform their duties properly. Angry to the point where his breaking point was about to be reached. Angry to the point where his unstoppable rage was about to be unleashed. Angry to the point where...he could just murder someone out of pure justice. Back in his days, the justice system was fair and just, delivering proper retribution to the perpetrators of an unjust crime. In the 21st century, however, most criminals got off scot free due to improper preparations and lack of evidence._

 _Not this time. Or any other time._

 _Draining down his tea in one gulp, Scrooge headed upstairs to his office to retrieve a personal stash of resources. The moment he stepped in, he stopped dead in his tracks._

 _. . ._

 ** _"Goldie O'Glit."_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"Scrooge McDuck."_**

 _The long-lost flame of Scrooge actually lived a simple life, despite what he thought. It was probably because of her ruthlessness towards others and relentlessness towards goals that she strived better than most, but her greediness and penchant for mischief made her an easy target for the most wanted lists of FBI, CIA, NSA, and even the MI6. This was also probably why he was drawn to her: she was a wild card, a third wheel when it came to dueling parties, and a lone gunslinger when it counts. She almost always worked alone, only teaming up with a hint of reluctance as a last resort._

 _Her expression of solemn regret caught him off guard._

 ** _"Why are you here, O'Glit?"_**

 ** _"I heard what happened to your nephew and Miss Vanderquack. I'm sorry, Scrooge."_**

 ** _"I don't need your sympathies. I want Donald and Webby back."_**

 ** _"I understand."_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"You... You're workin_** ** _g for them?"_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"I was going to...until I discovered what exactly Ma Beagle and her Boys were up to. I'm cruel, Scrooge, but not that cruel."_**

 ** _"Huh. After all those years, you do harbor a soft spot."_**

 ** _"I'm not doing this for you, Scrooge. I'm only here because you need to know what I don't want to know. They crossed a line. They rob banks, wreak havoc, and smash in a few cops along the way. But to willingly torture and possibly murder a helpless child? They have to be stopped before any more suffer the same fate._ _"_**

 ** _"Are you suggesting that I...succumb to killing?"_**

 ** _"You sometimes vocalize your thoughts out loud. I know you want to know what the other side feels like...but I'm worried that you needn't come back from it."_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"Oh, Goldie...you don't have to worry about me."_**

 _Scrooge marched over to his desk and pressed a button that revealed a Winchester Model 1897 Riot Gun with a leather sling that also served as a shotgun bandolier in the wall behind a picture of himself; a separate one was inside along with a Winchester Model 1894, a Winchester Model 70, a Colt M1911A1, and two boxes each of their respective ammunition. He was an avid firearms collector, but believed in the proper training and background checks; furthermore, none of the firearms in the safe had been fired before and instead have kept on display as pieces of history. Walking over and taking up the Winchester Model 1897, Scrooge loaded his weapon of choice just as Goldie decided on hers._

 ** _"You're going after them."_**

 ** _"I am. You suggested it."_**

 ** _"I did."_**

 ** _"I suppose that makes us even. No wonder you fell in love with me all those years ago."_**

 _ **"Heh. You can't make a fire without a spark, Scroogey,"** Goldie retorted as she cocked her Winchester Model 1894._

* * *

 ** _BAM!_**

 _. . ._

 ** _SMACK!_**

 _. . ._

 ** _WHOMP!_**

 _. . ._

 _Webby groaned and moaned in pain as a result of the pain inflicted upon her by the Beagle Boys. A day about to be three had passed since she and Donald had been held captive by them, and so far, they did not pull any punches when it came to their various forms of torture ranging from electric shocks to actual punches._ _On those days, the Original Classics took full control (as well as pleasure) in overseeing the entire procedural in imposing harsh mistreatment on their prisoners. Day 3, and it was the Longboard Taquitos' turn to step up to the plate in order to use and abuse the captives for their own amusement._

 _Seeing as they specialized in all things sports, the trio utilized a baseball bat, a hockey stick, and a croquet mallet to knock Webby a bit despite her feeble protests of discomfort. Nearby, an enraged Donald Duck screamed obscenities into his mouth mask, attempting to get them to let her go. Alas, his muffled shrieks were in vain, for he was punched in the gut and kicked in the head for his troubles; the fact that he was wearing a straitjacket didn't help matters. Webby herself tried to call out for her friends' uncle, but given the number of throat chops brought down upon her by the Glam Yankees yesterday, her own attempts were all for naught as the air became lodged in her neck, thus preventing her from speaking..._

 _...but not from screaming._

 ** _SLASH!_**

 _Webby screamed in agony upon the slicing sensation in her legs. Bouncer Beagle had sliced her knees at the instruction of a silent Burger Beagle, something that Bigtime Beagle giggled and cackled in utter glee at. Donald, on the other hand, was seeing bloody red and dangerously close to committing bloody murder (his very loose straitjacket was echoing this settlement as well), if not for the 6th Avenue Meanies holding him back with their electric batons. Bigtime climbed up a stool and sniffed her deep gashes before chomping down, prompting her screams to increase tenfold. He drank her flowing blood as if it was a strawberry milkshake before pulling away, gulping a deep one, and howling to the heavens above. Burger and Bouncer decided to join in as well, but surprisingly enough, the Glam Yankees declined perhaps out of disgust. __This continued on for a few minutes or so until they had their fill, but they didn't hesitate to slash her stomach whenever they got the chance. When they left, they dragged an unconscious Donald out with them...and there was nothing scarier than not knowing the fate of one of your loved ones._

 _After they left, a moment of deafening silence followed...followed by the tears of Webby._

* * *

Huey had to keep the noise to a minimum when constructing his improvised weaponry from scratch. The eldest of the trio made it his civil duty to take note of his brothers' affairs out of fear and concern, something the two of them were not particularly aware of just yet. So you could just imagine his surprise upon discovering that his middle brother had _quite literally_ secured a deal with the devil...of sorts.

 ** _"So let me get this straight: you have a magical aunt who's actually an evil sorceress hell-bent on seeking revenge on Uncle Scrooge? And that she's possessing you in order for her to get you to do the dirty work for her?"_**

 ** _"Well, horrible pun aside, yes. She only appears when I'm alone."_**

 ** _"Then why isn't she here now?"_**

 ** _"I've been practicing repel magic for some time now."_**

 ** _"I didn't know there was such a thing."_**

 ** _"There is, but that's not the exact name for it. Look, you do understand the severity of the situation, right? I don't have enough time, and neither do you. Aunt Magica is after Scrooge's Number One Dime, which she believes is the way of obtaining more power than she already has."_**

 ** _"What the heck? That doesn't make any sense!"_**

 ** _"I tried telling her that! She won't listen, nor will she give up on her revenge mission._ _"_**

 ** _"How long do you have?"_**

 ** _"Not long. I need you to keep the Number One Dime far away from me as possible so Aunt Magica doesn't have a chance of acquiring it."_**

 ** _"What about you? Won't you get punished?"_**

 ** _"Don't worry about me; I felt worse."_**

 _. . ._

 ** _"All right. Help me rescue Webby and you'll consider your deal done."_**

 ** _"Done."_**

As much as Huey wanted to chastise his brother out for resorting to desperate measures in order to take the law into his own hands, he knew deep down Dewey's actions were completely justified. He had also eavesdropped on his granduncle's conversation with a former love interest of his, revealing that he was succumbing to the same idea. Of course, with him being an elderly gentleman with presumably more firearms experience, his acts of vigilantism were probably more justified than Dewey's own. He was just a 12-year-old kid with a stubborn attitude.

 _. . ._

 _Then again, so am I...at the moment._

Huey finished placing the finishing touches on his tranquilizer nail gun before moving on to a flamethrower fashioned from a water gun filled with gasoline and a lighter attached by a duct-taped metal bracket. These two were just two of the many improvised weapons found and/or built from equipment scattered around the manor. Among them were a yo-yo that could serve as a bola, a claw hammer, a baseball bat, a chainsaw, a Japanese Katana from Scrooge's sword armory, a ball-headed steel club, a genie's lamp, and a glass slipper with its heel broken so it took the appearance of a shiv. He wasn't exactly how or why those following objects ever appeared in the mansion in the first place, but he didn't (or rather, _couldn't_ ) question it for the time being.

Rummaging through the garage, Huey found a box of mini burlap bags and a separate one of glass jars, presumably for Scrooge's rainy-day funding. An idea began formulating in that little mind of his as he headed upstairs. Upon doing so, he screeched to a stop as his eyes widened at the sight before him.

"Uncle...Donald?"

Indeed, standing there in the doorway was a bruised-and-battered, blood-splattered, rain-drenched and none worse-for-wear Donald Duck, his heavy pants echoing throughout the manor.

"Where's...Scrooge?"

* * *

Scrooge himself was seated in the dining room with Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad, discussing with them their plans to rescue Donald and Webby. Goldie was in the kitchen whipping another batch of tea. Amidst the yelling into the phone and Scottish curses stated, she found it hilarious, endearing, and astonishing amidst the tragic situation. Scrooge really cared for Webby...just as she herself had taken a shine toward her as well.

"Uncle Scrooge! Uncle Scrooge!"

The four of them turned to find the eldest grandnephew of Scrooge McDuck supporting the bloodied actual nephew of Scrooge McDuck.

 _"Donald..."_ Scrooge quite literally leapt out of his seat and took him from Huey. Mrs. Beakley helped him down to a chair as Launchpad fetched the first aid safety kit. Goldie emerged from the kitchen with a tray of tea, which she placed on the table to attend to Donald. From upstairs, Dewey heard his uncle's cries of sorrow and his stomach churned. He didn't like to feel weak and powerless. In fact, the very feeling and its existence insulted him to the absolute fullest. Marching back to his room and slamming the door behind him, he scoured his duffel bag for the Daniel Defense M4A1 to check its sights.

Without thinking straight, Dewey fired straight into a glass reflection of himself...just missing the top of Louie's head.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : The timeline (of some sort) is listed below:_

 _• **Day 1** : Webby and Donald are captured by the Beagle Boys; Huey, Dewey, and Louie escape  
• **Day 2** : Dewey decides to save the both of them from captivity and buys weapons from Duke Weaselton; he encounters Lena, who offers her assistance in exchange for something important  
• **Day 3** : Scrooge unknowingly decides to take a page or two from Dewey's book with the help of Goldie; Huey, while building homemade weapons, encounters Uncle Donald, who has escaped from the Beagle Boys, who take pleasure in torturing Webby. Dewey experiences the power of the M4A1 beforehand._

 _The next chapter will center primarily (hopefully) on Lena...to the tune of a cover of a **Rolling Stones** classic._


	4. Chapter 4

**_Part 4: " Paint It Black"_**

 ** _(" Paint It, Black" – The Rolling Stones) [Ciara Cover]_**

 _Lena took a stroll around town._

 _She was currently debating whether or not her deal with the middle grandnephew of Scrooge McDuck was the right choice to make. Her little mind was split into two hemispheres; one side was in the right, while the other was in the wrong._ _Dealing with a supernatural force she had little grasp of was certainly a downside to this predicament of hers, but dealing with said supernatural force she had little grasp of by rebelling against it was practically her own death sentence. God, nobody but Webby and her family would attend her little-seen funeral; even then, she doubted that even they would attend learning the ugly truth. Except possibly Dewey, if he doesn't backstab her in return._

 _Ah, the classic act of backstabbing. Good guys to bad guys, bad guys to their second-in-command, the second-in-command to his cronies, and so on. It was a never-ending cycle of brutal and backhanded betrayal with an uncertain instigator and all certain doom for all parties involved. Originating from the work of 18th-century British criminal/thief taker Jonathan Wild, this practice had since been immortalized in the form of varying media from movies to TV to video games to even radio plays as some sort of plot twist. Of course, few could compare to...her aunt, the master of disguise when it came to deception and double-crossing her associates (that is, if she had any at all) for her own desires._

 _What about **her** own desires, hmm? Lena did all the work, Magica got all the credit. Honestly, if she had any willpower whatsoever, she would backstab her own aunt at any and every opportunity, given her behavior inflicted upon her. And if she had a brother who was equally menacing in terms of characteristics, he should pray that he would never meet his own niece. She would paint the world black on her path to vengeance._

 _Paint it black..._

 _Lena took a stroll around town...and painted it black._

* * *

Louie was a simple duck. He would wake up, eat up, sleep up, and repeat. Of course, he could do it when he had somebody to annoy; his brothers could certainly attest to that. Those days, he would wake up and a sarcastic comment would be the first thing that left his mouth, ticking them off as it should. When it's one of _these_ days, however? He doubted it for only a moment's notice before accepting the ugly truth.

He was the evil triplet.

There was no other logical explanation for it, and this was coming from him. At first, he shrugged it off as nothing more than a brainless joke intended to poke fun at the identical sibling with the less personality induced. However, as the days passed, the no-longer brainless joke was one to be taken seriously as a legitimate and downright serious brain teaser. Unlike his older brothers, who were characterized by science and action heroics respectively, his main personality traits were cunning and manipulative, and those adjectives weren't typically associated with the typical protagonist of the movies/shows he watched. If anything, he fitted the bill of an atypical antihero, which Huey explained as a hero who lacked the clichéd heroics attributes. In other words, a far cry from Dewey's knight-in-shining-armor mannerisms towards Webby.

Though, he doubted that his two brothers were far from saints themselves.

It was during this moment of contemplation that a round of gunfire erupted from the wall above him, causing him to roll off the bed and land back first onto the wooden floor. His head racking with terror, Louie flopped onto his belly and pushed himself up to run to the other room where the bullets originated from. Bursting inside, he found Dewey armed with a freshly-fired automatic carbine, its barrel still smoking as a result. Realizing that the assumption that his brothers (well, one of them, at least) wasn't a holy angel sent from above had accidentally proven true (to an extent), his heart began to race as he kept his guard up when approaching Dewey.

"D-Dewey?"

His second eldest brother's head perked up from the unexpected intruder in his hideout...and creaked to his left to face him.

 _"What?"_

Louie gulped a deep one before he continued with hesitance.

"W-Where...?"

 _"Did I get this sweet little piece of firepower? Simple. I bought it. Not with my own money, but Uncle Scrooge's. When you're one of the grandnephews of the richest duck in the world, you tend to have some benefits...at a cost, at least."_

Flicking on the safety of his AR-15, Dewey set it down and continued his monologue.

 _"Look, Louie. I'm not going to stop you from telling the others the truth about what I'm planning to do, but I myself won't stop myself from carrying said plan out._ _Webby needs me just as I need her. She needs my help, and I'm gonna give it to her. That's what I'm going to do. I'm gonna save Webby and kill every single one of the Beagle Boys. I'm gonna kill every single one of the Beagle Boys and save Webby. I'm gonna kill 'em all! You're not gonna stop me, Huey's not gonna stop me, nobody's gonna stop me now. What do you have to say about that?_ _"_

. . .

Nothing. Louie had nothing to say about Dewey's rage-filled speech, but he had a lot on his mind. _Wow. Now this is a guy who loves his girlfriend to the point of committing murder for her. Wait...Dewey just confessed his feelings for Webby. Yes! Huey owes me $20!_ Of course, despite his rather sardonic front, a sprinkle of sympathy twinged within him as any annoying yet ultimately supportive brother would.

"Nothing, actually. Nothing except...the fact that you're planning to do this own is complete and utter suicide."

"Actually, Lena is sort of in on the scheme."

"... Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

Louie closed the door behind him and noticed the duffel bag resting beside Dewey on the bed. "Do you, uh...have another one of those?"

"Yeah. Umm..." He reached into the bag and pulled out the BCM, passing it over to him. "Here."

"Thanks." Louie took the rifle and examined its sights. "So...you're gonna save Webby?"

"Yes."

"Even if it gets you killed?"

"Yes."

"Do you even care?"

 _. . ._

"No."

 _. . ._

"You hesitated."

"I know."

"So, you're afraid of dying at the hands of the Beagle Boys, but putting that fear aside for your sake and Webby's?"

 _. . ._

 _. . ._

 _. . ._

"Yes."

 _. . ._

"Well, I can't let you hog all the glory. Besides, like I said, it's complete and utter suicide doing this mission all by yourself."

Dewey chuckled in response and patted Louie's shoulder while shaking his head, "I couldn't agree more. Thanks, Louie."

"Anytime, Dewey. Umm...you do realize we're probably gonna get grounded, arrested, killed, or all of the above...right?"

"I do, and not just because you've been repeatedly implying in your hesitant tone."

"Okay. I was just making sure."

"But Webby's my friend. The fear of not being able to save her in time is enough to kill me. That's why I'm doing this... _For her._ "

"Hey, I understand, bro. I just figured that you were doing this to get your girlfriend back. I never knew that I was _partially_ right."

At that, Dewey elicited a heavy blush and waved his hands around as he proceeded to "dispel" Louie's assumption. "What?! Of course not! I did not have a secret crush on Webby Vanderquack from the moment we met, and I still don't!"

Louie grimaced at Dewey's attempts to do so. "Wow, buddy. You just dug yourself a much deeper hole."

"You get my point, though, right?"

"Sure... For now."

 _ **KNOCK-KNOCK!**_

The both of them looked up from their conversational gun examining and towards the door. Hiding their rifles and the bags containing them underneath the bed, they had no idea who could be there at the door. It could've been Huey, Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, Miss Beakley, or even Launchpad.

"Come in!"

CLICK!

. . .

CREAK!

But both of them neither expected the visitor to be...

"Lena?"

The older duckling cringed and groaned, "Oh, sorry. I was expecting to find only Dewey here. So what, the Three Caballeros are uniting now?"

"No, Huey doesn't know about this yet," Louie clearly understood that reference, "and neither does the rest of the family. We're expecting Huey to join, but not anybody else."

"Good call. Considering that your Uncle Donald's already been fucked up than he already is–"

 _ **"WHAT?!"**_ Both brothers shot up from the bed, their tones dripping with confused apprehension.

"Uncle Donald's here?!"

"And _alive_?!"

"Yeah," Lena clearly was expecting this kind of outburst and remained calm about it, "He's downstairs recovering with Huey and Mrs. Beakley..."

That was all they needed to hear, for they had already shot up from the bed and bolted downstairs. Lena watched on and sighed solemnly, know that the current situation they currently found themselves stuck in was simply too much for them to bear. To learn the news of their uncle having apparently escaped the clutches of the Beagle Boys and survived while doing so was no doubt a relief in their eyes. Even so, Webby still out there was ever-so nerve-racking to the bone. Of course, if Donald got out, then Webby could, too.

Hope was on their side...hopefully.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : So, Lena is still struggling with her quite literal inner demons while Louie is now in on with the rescue mission. Hopefully, things will begin to heat up in Chapter...6. __The fifth chapter will see Huey contemplating the uncertain decision to join his brothers' rescue mission before Scrooge, Mrs. Beakley, and Goldie inevitably get involved. When Webby is in the final stages of her torture phase, that's when the action finally kicks in. And believe me...there will be blood...with no survivors. Of course, I never said it would be the final chapter. That stuff comes much later. In the meantime...see you until the next chapter, mates._


End file.
